


Spinning Straw

by Nicnac



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Romance, Rumplestiltskin AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24631894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicnac/pseuds/Nicnac
Summary: Because of her father's foolish behaviour, King Gabriel now believes Aziraphale is able to spin straw into gold and threatens to kill her if she doesn't spin for him. Her only hope is a snake that has mysteriously appeared and offered her his assistance, for a price. Rumplestiltskin AU.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 72
Kudos: 256
Collections: Break in Case of Emergency: Fluff and Love, Good AUmens AU Fest





	Spinning Straw

Once upon a time there was a village on a river a day’s ride from the capital city of a small but prosperous kingdom. In this village lived a woman named Aziraphale. She was generally agreed to be a bit odd, being more interested in books than any woman ought to be, especially one who was getting on in years and was still unmarried. She was unfailingly kind and generous with those in need, but she had little patience for fools and a sharp tongue with those who raised her ire. Despite her oddness, Aziraphale still drew much attention from the men in the village. It was not her kindness that drew them in, nor her beauty – for she was beautiful, with flaxen hair that tumbled down in a profusion of riotous curls, a body comprised of soft curves, and a smile that could bring delight to the most hard-hearted. It was not her quick wit or her bright mind that attracted them either. Instead, what most interested them was that Aziraphale was the miller’s only child and whoever married her was bound to inherit the mill and its profitable business.

The miller himself was an odd person too, though in a different way than his daughter. He was prone to long rambles and strange flights of fancy, a problem that was only worsened by the long evenings he’d spent in the tavern ever since his wife died. Yet no matter how outlandish the things he claimed were or how drunk he got, there were always at least a few men ready to indulge him in his stories. The more honest among them hoped that endearing themselves to the miller might also endear them to his daughter, while one or two unscrupulous individuals hoped that a father’s approval might override any of the daughter’s objections entirely.

On this particular evening the tavern was especially busy, and all the attention had the miller especially emboldened and boastful. He was laying praise upon his daughter that night, a subject which the men were especially eager to be seen agreeing with. It began simply enough, with the miller boasting of Aziraphale’s beauty, and if some comments were slightly exaggerated, they were mostly true. Then he moved on to her pious nature – a more debatable topic as she hardly behaved in the soft-spoken and humble ways one would expect of a devout and virtuous woman, but her faith was strong, and the chorus of agreements only drew a few eye rolls from the serving maid. Finally, the miller moved on to his daughter’s many talents, his claims growing increasingly unlikely with each one until he proclaimed loudly for everyone in the room to hear, “Aziraphale is so talented and so good that she’s been blessed by God to be able to spin straw into gold.”

This was a ridiculous and obviously false claim, of course. God didn’t go around blessing people with supernatural skills. Such a feat might be possible for a very talented magic user -- though such a thing had never been heard of – but Aziraphale wasn’t even licensed to perform the most meagre of spells. And yet, no sooner had he said it than three men were agreeing that of course she would be able to do such a thing, with a further two saying they had seen her do it themselves.

Fortunately, the miller’s shout drew the attention of a man who had not originally been a part of their group – he was too interested in hoping he might catch the serving maid’s eye to be worried about Aziraphale’s notice – who made his way through the crowd and gently suggested to the miller that perhaps it was time he went back home to see his beautiful and talented daughter. The miller reluctantly allowed himself to be coaxed away, and the other man led him back home.

Unfortunately, and unnoticed by anyone else at the busy tavern, the miller’s shout also drew the attention of a third man. This man slipped out of the tavern and followed the miller home, then quickly went to find a messenger to send ahead of him before returning. Sandalphon, for that was the man’s name, was one of the king’s closest advisors, and well knew just how interested his king would be in a woman who could spin straw to gold.

Aziraphale opened the door, already annoyed with her father – not an uncommon occurrence – and inclined to be annoyed at whoever was knocking on her door so late in the evening. Her annoyance quickly melted away to shock when she saw Sandalphon and the king’s crest on his clothing. She curtsied, “What can I do for you, sir?”

“You are the miller’s daughter?” he asked.

“Yes, I am Aziraphale,” she said.

Sandalphon gave her a look up and down. He sneered slightly as he said, “The king wishes to see you.”

“The king,” Aziraphale echoed, more shocked and confused with each passing second. “But what could His Majesty possibly want with me?”

“Are you questioning me?” he asked, drawing himself up to his full height, which was rather intimidating even if he was still a bit shorter than Aziraphale.

“No, of course not,” she said hastily. “I only meant that I’m sure King Gabriel is a very busy man and a very important one; much more important than me. I wouldn’t want to waste his time.”

“It’s not for you to decide what is and isn’t worth the king’s time,” Sandalphon said. “I will require lodgings here tonight and will escort you to the palace in the morning.”

Aziraphale knew better than to protest further, so she stood back from the doorway and invited Sandalphon inside. She gave him her bed and, as there were no unoccupied beds and she had no desire to share with her father, she curled up in her comfortable armchair before the fireplace for the night.

She watched the last of the embers flicker and smoulder as she played absent-mindedly with the ring on her left pinkie. The ring wore a little loose, as though better suited to a different finger, and playing with it was a frequent nervous habit of hers. There was a moment as she sat there unable to sleep that she considered stealing out into the night. She could follow the river to the sea and when she reached to coast she could–

She cut off the thought unfinished. If she fled the king’s men would surely follow her, and then she would be in genuine trouble. Besides, the journey to the sea was long and the coast covered a great deal of area. Too much for her to possibly find what she was looking for without further direction. Better to stay then, and go see the king tomorrow as bid. Surely whatever he required of her wouldn’t be too onerous and afterward she could return safely to the mill. Her hand loosely and unconsciously clasped itself around the pedant to her necklace. She’d make it the coast someday, just not tonight.

The next morning Sandalphon had them set out just as the first streaks of dawn were peeking over the horizon; so early in fact that Aziraphale was forced to leave a note out for her father to let him know where she’d gone, as he had not risen from bed yet. Sandalphon managed to procure an extra horse for her, and though her seat on the animal was – as Sandalphon told her frequently and at great length throughout the day – absolutely dreadful, she managed to stay on the beast all through their hard ride to the capital.

Once they reached the palace Aziraphale got to see first-hand how important Sandalphon was, as just the sight of him had the guards quickly escorting them to the king. King Gabriel was at his table finishing his evening meal when they arrived. King Gabriel stood and gave Aziraphale a once over the same as Sandalphon had the night before, and he did not seem any more impressed by her than Sandalphon had been. Certainly Aziraphale’s standing was not overly helped by the way her stomach had growled at the sight of his well-laid table – she had not had a bite to eat since Sandalphon had allowed them to stop for a brief break at midday.

“Is this her?” King Gabriel asked, addressing Sandalphon as though Aziraphale weren’t in the room, or perhaps as though she were nothing more than a large dumb animal.

“It is, sire. The miller’s daughter who can spin straw to gold.”

The only thing that prevented Aziraphale from outright laughing at the utter absurdity of that was her complete shock. It seemed impossible that this was what she had been brought all this way and presented before the king for. “Excuse me, but that isn’t true. Your majesty,” Aziraphale said, nervously offering a deep curtsy to offset the rudeness of her correction. “I’m not sure where you heard such a rumour, but I’m sure spinning straw to gold would be quite impossible even for someone far more gifted at spinning than me.”

“It is not a rumour; I heard it directly from your father’s mouth last night,” Sandalphon countered.

“My father is rather prone to tall tales I’m afraid, and he was quite drunk last night,” Aziraphale said.

“But the five men who supported his claim, including two witnesses to this skill of yours were not,” said Sandalphon.

Aziraphale bit the inside of her cheek. She was growing very annoyed with this haughty little man, but she did not think it would do to lose her temper. “As I said, my father was quite drunk. I’m sure the men he was talking to found it easier to just agree with him rather than argue.” She turned back to King Gabriel and curtsied again. “My apologies for wasting your time, Majesty, but as I said, I cannot spin straw to gold.”

“I thought you might say that,” King Gabriel replied, and Aziraphale allowed herself an internal sigh of relief. She was still uncertain how anyone could believe such an obvious untruth, but at least the king was not as great a fool as his man was. “Thank you Sandalphon, you are excused. You, come along.”

Aziraphale followed behind King Gabriel as bid. She was a little alarmed when the pair of guards outside the door to the king’s dining chamber fell in step as well, but she wrote it off as a standard precaution. She was a stranger here after all; it made sense that she wouldn’t be allowed alone with the king, no matter how harmless she appeared or knew herself to be. King Gabriel led them through the corridors, in a distinctly different direction than the one Aziraphale and Sandalphon had come from. She hoped that meant she was going to be given use of some small room to rest in for the night before being sent home in the morning. She also hoped the journey home might include a cart she could ride on this time rather than a horse – she could already tell the weak, shaking feeling in her legs was going to blossom into a very deep and painful soreness come tomorrow.

Finally, they came to a stop in front of a rather unassuming wooden door. Aziraphale was already preparing herself to thank King Gabriel for his hospitality and apologize again for the confusion when one of the guards swung the door open. Behind was a room filled with straw, and in the centre of it all sat a lone spinning wheel.

Aziraphale was so busy gaping at the scene before her that she failed to notice the other guard approaching her until he had already grabbed her by the arm and roughly shoved her into the room. The door slammed shut behind her followed by the sound of the lock sliding into place.

“What is the meaning of this?” Aziraphale shouted at the door, all thoughts of politeness and proper civility toward her king vanished like a wisp of smoke.

“As I said, I thought you might try to deny your powers so you could hoard them for yourself. So, I prepared a little incentive. You will spin all the straw in that room to gold by morning, or you will be executed.”

“You can’t kill me,” Aziraphale protested.

“Yes, I can,” King Gabriel responded. “Refusing to use your gift for the good of the kingdom is treason, a hangable offence.”

“But I told you, I don’t have any gift; I can’t spin straw to gold.”

“Then you were lying to your king when you originally claimed you could, which is also treason.”

Aziraphale opened her mouth to object that she had never said any such thing, but then snapped it shut again. She had never said it, but her father had. It had been a stupid lie, but it had been harmlessly meant, and there was no reason he ever could have expected it to come to this. He certainly didn’t deserve to be killed over it.

The sense of smugness radiating off King Gabriel was palpable even through the door. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, and then she heard his footsteps walking away. 

“That man is an idiot,” Aziraphale hissed at the door. She turned and began pacing in what little open floor space there was. “My father is a drunk, the king and everyone else in this castle are idiots, and I…” She stopped and slowly sank to the floor. “And I’m going to die.”

It wasn’t fair, she thought as silent tears began rolling down her cheeks. She was a good person. She wasn’t perfect, but she had always tried to do the right thing. She’d certainly never done anything to deserve this. All she had wanted was a quiet little life, she’d had it all planned out, so how had she ended up here? Sitting on the cold stone floor in a room filled with straw, waiting for dawn to come and seal her death sentence, all brought upon by the whims of a handful of stupid, stupid men. She tucked her knees up to her chest, hid her face, and cried. It wasn’t fair.

On the other side of the room, hidden behind the piles and piles of straw, a snake slithered in through a hole in the wall that hadn’t been there a minute before. He was a handsome sort of creature, with a long sinuous body, black scales that glinted just faintly with iridescence in the dim torchlight of the room, a bright red belly, and large yellow eyes that were alight with an unusual amount of intelligence. He slithered across the room and wound his way up the spinning wheel, draping himself over the apparatus. “Well, you seem to be in a bit of a pickle,” he said.

It was fortunate that Aziraphale was not particularly afraid of snakes, or she might have reacted very poorly to the sudden appearance of one, especially such a large one so close to her. As it was, she sniffled a little, wiped her eyes, and said, “Sorry, what was that?”

“I said ‘well, you seem to be in a bit of a pickle,’” the snake repeated. “I didn’t catch the whole story, but something about spinning straw into gold, I understand?”

“Yes, King Gabriel… well, actually it all started with my father. He’s rather prone to making things up, and usually it’s harmless, but last night the wrong person overheard him. And now King Gabriel believes I can spin straw into gold, and if I don’t spin all the straw in this room by morning, he’s going to have me killed. But of course, I can’t do any such thing, so I’m as good as dead already,” she explained.

“I can,” the snake said.

“Can what?”

“I can spin this straw into gold for you.”

“You can?” Aziraphale asked uncertainly. It was obvious there was more to this snake than met the eye – snakes didn’t usually talk after all – but, well, he was still a snake. Spinning typically required the use of hands.

“I can,” the snake insisted, “but I’ll need something from you in exchange.”

“I don’t really have anything to give you. I could catch you some mice after I get out of here,” she offered

“I can get my own food,” the snake said, and for a moment Aziraphale was worried she’d offended him badly enough that he might change his mind. “No, what I want is your necklace.”

Aziraphale reached up and grabbed said necklace protectively. It was a simple thing, a thin chain with an angel-shaped pedant, but the thought of giving it away hurt dearly. “This necklace was a gift. I…” The snake looked at her impassively. “I... but I suppose if that’s the price to save my life, then…” She gently undid the clasp and pulled the necklace off. She held the angel pendant in her cupped hands for long moment, then sighed, redid clasp and held the necklace out in front of her. The snake slipped its head inside the circle of the necklace, draping it over his sinuous body.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll take it from here; you can get some sleep if you like.”

“I’m not really tired,” Aziraphale said, immediately undercutting her statement with a yawn. It was a bit embarrassing, though she hoped the yawn might have at least covered the grumbling sound her stomach had let out at the same moment.

The snake let out an almost amused sounding hiss. “Sleep,” he insisted. “If nothing else it’ll distract you from how hungry you are.”

He made an excellent point, Aziraphale thought as her eyelids began to grow heavy. She leaned back into one of the great piles of straw. Her eyes fell shut and she immediately drifted off to sleep.

In the middle of the night Aziraphale woke briefly. The lamplight had grown dim, the flickering quality of it giving the room an almost unreal feel. The spinning wheel whirred rhythmically. There was a shadow, a thin black slash of darkness, stood before the wheel working. Before she could consider the scene further, her eyes fluttered shut again and the image was swept away into dreams.

The following morning when Aziraphale awoke for real, the room appeared far brighter than the thin windows along the single outer wall could account for. The meagre sunlight was multiplied tenfold by the way it reflected off the shimmering mounds of gold thread that filled the room. She stared in amazement, so arrested by the sight that it took her a minute to notice the small meal laid out on a handkerchief beside her. It was all simple fare, a little bread and cheese and a handful of nuts, but not having eaten since lunch the day before, she devoured it all ravenously.

After she finished eating, she regained enough presence of mind to look around for the snake. She wanted to thank him, both for his work at the spinning wheel and for the food she presumed he must have brought as well. But when she looked around, he was nowhere to be seen.

The door opened to reveal King Gabriel. He faltered as he entered, having clearly not expected Aziraphale to accomplish the task he had set out for her. After a moment a smarmy grin spread its way across his face. “Well, well, I knew you could do it, if you were just properly motivated.”

Aziraphale’s lips twitched in a mixture of annoyance and disgust, but she knew better than to say anything. She kept her mouth shut and merely inclined her head in a way that hopefully looked properly deferential.

King Gabriel turned to guards accompanying him and said, “Set her up in a room where she can get some rest. She’s earned it after her busy night.”

“Please, your majesty,” Aziraphale interrupted, “I’d really like to just go home now.”

“Nonsense,” King Gabriel said. “You’ve been up all night spinning away for me. The least I can offer is some food and a chance for some sleep.”

Aziraphale bit back the retort that her snake had provided her with both those things at far less cost and without having threatened to kill her beforehand. Instead she smiled as sweetly as she could manage – which was not very sweetly at all but she was hopeful King Gabriel would chalk that up to her sleep-deprivation – and said “Thank you, your majesty.”

Aziraphale wanted to resent the pair of guards for the part they played, but they made it rather difficult to. The one half-carried her to the small bedroom in the servants’ quarters when he saw how sore she was from the long day of riding she’d had the day before, and the other had helpfully offered to fetch her some sort of handicraft to keep her from getting bored while she rested, and had been bemused but obliging when she requested a few books from the library instead. They were both affable enough men, and she decided it was perhaps unfair to hate them merely because they worked for someone so distasteful. Her charitable thinking dissolved fairly quickly after they followed settling her into the room by locking her in.

That evening, a different pair of guards – a much nastier pair that Aziraphale was even less inclined to be charitable toward -- came to fetch her. They led her further into the castle, to where King Gabriel was waiting for them in front of another closed door. Aziraphale’s heart began sinking before he’d even opened the door to reveal a second even larger room filled with straw. She didn’t bother to protest this time when the guards threw her into the room and the door was locked behind her.

“Same deal as yesterday,” King Gabriel said through the door. “Spin all the straw to gold by morning or I’ll have you hanged for treason.”

Aziraphale listened to the sound of his footsteps slowly fading away, and rage began to boil up inside her. Normally even at her angriest, she defaulted to calm and biting, but as soon as she was certain he was gone she gave out a wordless scream of frustration. This was ludicrous. Even if she could spin straw into gold, he had no right to demand it of her or to threaten to kill her if she didn’t comply.

Not knowing what else to do, she sat down on the floor, still fuming, and waited and hoped for the snake to come. To her relief, not more than five minutes later he appeared, slithering into view from behind one of the piles of straw.

“How do you always manage to get yourself into trouble?” he asked, but he didn’t seem especially annoyed; he sounded more amused than anything.

“I don’t always,” Aziraphale objected. More frequently than the average person perhaps, but it wasn’t as though the snake had any way of knowing that. “And besides, this is the same trouble as yesterday. It just wasn’t as finished as we thought. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help me again?”

“That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?” he replied.

“Is it?” Aziraphale echoed, surprised. Though upon consideration she wasn’t sure what else he could be here for.

“Of course,” he said. “Though I will need something in exchange again. Your ring this time.”

Aziraphale’s left hand immediately balled up and the right hand clasped protectively over it. “I can’t give you that,” she protested. “It was a gift. A very important gift from someone very important to me. I couldn’t possibly give it away.”

The snake gave her a look that seemed sympathetic to her, though she hadn’t realized snakes were capable of such an expression, and she couldn’t begin to say what in particular about his face made him appear that way. “I hear you,” he said, “but this is a life or death situation. It’s a choice between your ring or your life. I’m sure your friend will understand if you explain that to him.”

Aziraphale bit back an instinctive retort that he knew nothing about the situation because he was right regardless. As much as she hated to give the ring up, if it was a choice between that and letting King Gabriel kill her in the morning, then that wasn’t much of a choice at all, was it? She slipped the ring off her finger, trying to hide the way her eyes welled up as she did so. She held the ring out, and the snake slipped it onto his tail.

There was a long awkward pause as he looked at her. “It’ll be alright,” he said, sounding almost embarrassed. “Get some sleep.”

Just as it had the night before, Aziraphale felt sleep quickly overcome her, though it was rather harder to get comfortable laying in the straw with the soreness of her muscles. She let out a few pained noises as she settled down, but fell asleep almost immediately once she found a position that worked.

And again, just as she had the night before, Aziraphale awoke briefly in the middle of the night to a dim and flickering room. The spinning wheel was once again whirring away, and this time she caught a slightly better look at the shadow standing by it. It was a man with his back to her, dressed all in black with short red hair. A brief notion crossed her mind to call out to him, but she slipped back asleep before she could.

The following morning the room was once again filled to the brim with piles of golden thread. The snake was gone as was, Aziraphale found as she sat up and stretched, all her soreness from the day before. It was so strange to her, the small kindnesses the snake offered her, when he was already doing so much for her just in saving her life.

When King Gabriel arrived, his eyes lit up with greed at the sight of gold. Aziraphale was not surprised to find herself led and locked into the same room in the servant’s quarters from the day before, nor was she surprised that evening when she was led to a third even larger room filled with straw.

She walked into the room of her own accord this time, which was apparently enough of a show of compliance that King Gabriel felt comfortable leaving the door open as he talked to her. “Third times the charm,” he said. “If you can manage to spin all this straw to gold before morning, then I will grant you a reward.”

Aziraphale had no interest in any sort of reward from him, but she knew better than to say that out loud. “All I want is to return home, your majesty. I’m all my father has, and I’m sure he’s missing me.”

King Gabriel laughed, the sound condescending and hollow. “What quaint little desires you common folk have,” he said. “No, your reward will be much better than that.” The door shut on his smug grin, and a moment later Aziraphale heard him leave.

She sighed and sat herself down on the ground, waiting for the snake to appear. He did not disappoint. “Hello again,” Aziraphale said. “This should hopefully be the last time I should have need of your services.”

“Satisfied his lust for gold already, has he?” the snake asked. “Or maybe he just ran out of straw. I guess at a certain point it would start to become counterproductive. It’d bring down the price of gold if you flooded too much into the system at once, not to mention the price of straw will eventually skyrocket if he keeps buying it up in huge quantities.”

“I’m not convinced he’s clever enough to think of all that,” Aziraphale said. “In any case, I am hopeful I’ll be allowed to go home tomorrow. Provide you can help me spin all the straw in here to gold by morning.”

“I can manage that,” the snake said. “There’s just the matter of payment.”

“I don’t know that I have anything left,” Aziraphale said doubtfully. She’d only been wearing the two pieces of jewellery and now all she had were the clothes she was wearing.

The snake’s tongue flickered, tasting the air. “No, I suppose you don’t,” he agreed. “Instead I’ll bargain you for a promise of future payment.”

“Alright,” Aziraphale said. “What do you want?”

“Your firstborn child.”

“No!” said Aziraphale, absolutely appalled. “Out of the question; I’m not going to let you eat my future child.”

“Eat them?” the snake protested, sounding equally appalled. “Who said anything about eating them? I’m not going to– Do I really seem like the kind of person that would eat someone to you?”

“Well, no,” Aziraphale said, feeling a bit bad for suggesting it, but… “But you are a very large snake, and I don’t see what else you possibly could want with a human baby.”

“To raise it,” the snake said with all apparent sincerity. “I would keep your child and care for them as my own.”

“But why?” Aziraphale asked.

“Why does anyone want a child?” he replied. It still seemed completely unfathomable to her, but she couldn’t doubt he was genuine in his desire, not when his tone was so earnest and when he had been so kind to her up until now. And yet…

“Even so,” she said, “I can’t give you my child. Ask for something else.”

“There is nothing else,” the snake said. “Understand, I’m not asking for your child on a whim or to be cruel. Spinning all this straw into gold isn’t easy; I can’t just snap my fingers and have it done. It takes power, more than I have. The rules of magic are strange and confusing, but they aren’t arbitrary. I asked for your necklace and ring and now I’m asking for the promise of your firstborn child because there’s enough power in those things to allow me to do what you need.”

“But my necklace and my ring were just simple little pieces of jewellery,” Aziraphale said.

“Is that really all they were?” the snake asked.

“Well… well, not to me personally,” Aziraphale began.

The snake interrupted, “That’s all that matters. It was you who personally gave them to me. There was more than enough feeling sunk into them to provide the magical energy I needed. But promises are more ephemeral; they don’t have the same power as a physical object has, so I need something more in what you’re promising to make up the difference. Your firstborn is the only thing you have to offer right now.”

It was that phrasing in particular, the only thing she had _right now_ , that caught Aziraphale’s attention. That implied to her that she might have something in the future that the snake would willing to renegotiate for when payment came due. The snake had been so kind to her; she was sure he would accept an alternative if there were one.

Aziraphale let out a slow breath. “Alright,” she agreed. “In exchange for spinning all the straw to gold by morning, I promise you my firstborn child.”

“Deal. Now go to sleep. I have a long night ahead of me,” the snake said. Aziraphale barely had time to lay back against the straw before she fell headlong into slumber.

This time when she awoke in the middle of the night, she was being carried from her previous bed of straw over to one of the piles of fresh-spun gold. Her eyes opened only the narrowest of slits, and she blearily attempted to make out the form of the person holding her. He was a thin black shadow against the dim light of the room, his hair a deep red and his face – oh, now she knew she must be dreaming. He laid her down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Sleep,” he whispered, and she did.

The following morning Aziraphale woke to a room once again filled with gold and to the ghost of the feeling of being gently held.

When King Gabriel arrived to see the task completed, Aziraphale offered him her deepest curtsy. “As you can see, I’ve once again done as you asked of me, your majesty. Now may I please return home?”

“Are you still on about that?” King Gabriel asked, punctuating the words with a dismissive chuckle. “No, I have a much better reward for you than that. I’m going to marry you.”

Aziraphale gaped at him. What sort of completely absurd and totally moronic –

“Now, now, I know what you’re thinking,” King Gabriel said. Aziraphale very much doubted it. “You’re thinking how could a lowly peasant like you ever be worthy of such an honour? Normally you’d be right, but just look at this.” He spread his arms wide to indicate the room full of gold. “You may be lacking in status and pedigree and refinement, but where could I possibly find a richer bride for myself?”

“Yes, of course, it’s a very great honour” Aziraphale said, her mind scrambling. “But I can’t marry you, you see, because… because…”

“Because?” King Gabriel prompted, his expression turning thunderous.

“Because I’m already engaged,” she blurted out. Her voice had some of a cadence of a lie to it, but it was the absolute truth. She just hadn’t been planning on mentioning it at all until she’d now found herself with little other option.

“To who, the town baker?” King Gabriel asked.

“No,” she said, almost more appalled by that suggestion than by the one that she marry King Gabriel. Aside from the baker himself being three times her age and already married, the baker’s son was the most odious person she’d ever met, present company excluded. “My fiancé is a traveling merchant.” This was not an entirely accurate description of his profession, but it was as close a one as she cared to get into with King Gabriel and his derisive attitude.

“A traveling merchant,” he echoed, disdain dripping from every syllable.

“Yes. And he’s also kind and brave and clever and generous, and most importantly he loves me and wanted to marry me even when I have nothing to offer besides myself.”

King Gabriel reached over and grabbed a bit of gold thread to twirl between his fingers. “You have nothing to offer,” he said pointedly.

“Ah, that’s a recent development,” Aziraphale said.

“So recent that your fiancé hasn’t heard about it, but not so recent that word didn’t have time to reach the palace. How exactly did I hear about it before this fiancé of yours?” he asked.

“He’s been away for a while,” she said. This was getting far more in depth than she had really wanted to get.

“Away for a while,” he said, full of scepticism. “And didn’t you say you were the miller’s only child? I would expect that would come with a reasonable-sized dowry and inheritance, even if your father has already taken on an apprentice.”

“Yes, well, my father didn’t exactly bless the marriage,” Aziraphale admitted. She wasn’t proud of the decision to run off and get married without his blessing, but she didn’t regret it and she wouldn’t take it back.

A strange look of condescension and triumph descended upon King Gabriel’s features. “Planning on eloping, were you? And I’m guessing after your fiancé agreed to that he went on ahead to ‘arrange a place’ for the two of you.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. It had been terribly romantic she thought. She had found a note on her pillow instructing her to come out to one of their meeting places that night after her father are refused to allow them to marry. She almost hadn’t gone, certain that this was going to be a goodbye, but in the end she couldn’t miss the chance to see the man she loved one last time. But when she got there, rather than ending their relationship, Crowley had taken her in his arms and told her even if all their plans had gone up in flames, the two of them could still go off together. It was ridiculous, and Aziraphale hadn’t been able to agree fast enough. They decided that since he was used to living on the road, he would go ahead and then once he’d found a place he would come back for Aziraphale, who would be wrapping up any loose ends and making sure her father would be alright without her. Then with one last kiss, and then another two as they got a little carried away, they went their separate ways, promising to see each other soon.

“And how long has it been since then?”

She hesitated. “Six years.”

King Gabriel smiled, a sharp expression. “That’s what I thought. Now, first of all, let me be clear, I wouldn’t care if you already had a husband, I’m the king, and if I’ve decided we’re going to get married, we’re going to get married. But the truth is you don’t have a husband or a fiancé. Because the minute your father refused to bless the marriage was the minute he lost interest. He just told you that he wanted to elope to keep you from getting hysterical when he left. He only ever wanted to marry you in the first place to inherit your father’s business. Without that…” King Gabriel shrugged.

That wasn’t true. It couldn’t possibly be true. Crowley _loved_ her. Aziraphale knew there were men who thought like that; there were plenty of men in her own village who chased after her for her father’s mill just as King Gabriel suggested, but not him. Not Crowley. He loved her. The fact that she hadn’t heard from him at all in the six years since he left was just, just…

“Now, enough of that nonsense,” King Gabriel said. “We have a wedding to plan.”

The rest of the day passed in a strange sort of haze. There had been wedding planning going on she was sure, but she couldn’t recall anything that had been said or decisions that had been made. Not that it mattered. Even if she had had any opinions on any of it, she doubted anyone was interested in them. She let herself be dragged along, until finally the interminably long day came to a close.

She was deposited into a bedroom for the night, one much larger and nicer than the one she had occupied the previous days. The only thing it shared in common was that this door also locked from the outside. There was a cosy pair of armchairs in front of the fireplace, and Aziraphale sat down in one of them, staring unseeingly at the flames.

Her back was to the plush bed on the other side of the room, so she failed to see the snake slithering out from underneath it. He came up to her chair and climbed up the side of it, laying the front edge of his body over the arm. When she still didn’t acknowledge him, he stretched himself upward and used his snout to poke her in the cheek.

She turned and looked at him dully. “Hello,” she said. “I don’t have any more straw today.”

“I noticed. What’s wrong?” he asked, and his expression of concern was enough to shake off some of her stupor. Seeing the way he was holding himself up, she offered out a hand, thinking he might rest his head on it to help balance. Instead he took it as an invitation to slither up her arm, leaving the front half of his body draped around her shoulders and pulling the back half of him to curl up in her lap. Perhaps she ought to complain about the presumption of it, but she found his weight grounding and oddly comforting.

“The king has decided what my reward for spinning all the straw to gold will be,” she told him.

“And?”

“He’s going to marry me,” Aziraphale answered. “I’m going to be queen.” It all sounded so impossible and yet so terrifyingly real.

“Do you want to be queen?” the snake asked. The question sounded strangely small, but Aziraphale didn’t have the mental space to wonder at the reason for that.

“Not if it means marrying the king,” she said. “But I don’t have any other options.”

“Say no,” he suggested.

“I tried that; he wasn’t interested in hearing it,” she said. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. Who else am I going to marry?” There were a handful of other men in her village that she could have had her pick from, but though they were somewhat less objectionable than King Gabriel, in the end their interest wasn’t all that different.

“What about your friend?” the snake said.

“My friend?”

“The one who gave you the jewellery,” he hissed, sounding just a bit tetchy. Without really considering what she was doing, Aziraphale responded to his agitation by gently stroking the coils in her lap.

“He did propose to me once. I thought he loved me, but when my father refused to bless the marriage, he left. I haven’t seen him since.”

“He just left, without even a word of explanation?”

“No,” Aziraphale admitted. “We said we were going to elope. He was going ahead to arrange things and then would come back for me. But that was six years ago. If he really meant for us to elope, if he had really loved me, he would have been back long before now. The king said—”

“Why are you listening to that wanker? You said you thought he loved you?”

“Ye-es,” Aziraphale said. “He said he did, and I thought… but maybe it was all just wishful thinking.”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “You don’t seem the type of person to fall in love with someone who would lie like that, nor the type to be prone to that kind of wishful thinking. If anything, you seem more like the kind of person who would remain completely oblivious to someone being in love with you.”

She gave a soft chuckle, her doubts beginning to dissipate with each word her snake spoke. She’d known better than to believe anything King Gabriel said – the man was an idiot – but the shock of it all and having to spend all day with him had begun to get to her, his words wearing away at the things she knew to be true. But now that her snake was here to take care of her as he always did, the fog in her brain began to lift.

“You’re right about that,” she admitted. “We’d known each other five years before I realized he was in love with me.”

“And how long had he been in love with you at that point?” the snake asked.

“The entire time,” Aziraphale said. “He travelled a lot for a living” – she carefully neglected to mention what it was exactly that he did – “and we first met one evening when he was passing through town. It was just beginning to rain when I saw him walking by in front of our house through the window. I grabbed an umbrella, ran out and offered to walk him to the tavern where he could rent a room for the night. According to him that’s all it took.”

“I knew it,” the snake said. “Completely oblivious for five years, huh?”

“Well, it’s not like he was any better,” Aziraphale retorted. “I was in love with him for just as long and he had no idea either. It was the second time we met, a month later. He was passing through town again and—” She cut herself off, and went to remove her hand from where she was still stroking the snake’s scales. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble on.”

The snake wrapped his tail around her wrist and gently guided her hand back down. “He was passing through town again…” he prompted.

She smiled and continued the story. “He was passing through town again and stopped by my house. He gave me a gift, the necklace I was wearing before. He said he’d seen it and it reminded him of me. I thought he was just being a flirt, saying I reminded him of an angel. Which is not to say I minded it; he’s very handsome, and I had enjoyed our conversation the last time we had met. But then he said that I actually reminded him of a specific angel character from a book. From my favourite book, and that was when I knew.”

“I should have known it would have been about a book,” the snake said.

Aziraphale looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean you should have known that?”

The snake nodded toward the frankly rather large stack of books sitting on the side table she hadn’t noticed before. It was the same stack she’d been reading from the past two days, and she could only assume one of the two friendlier guards had brought them to her new room for her.

“Ah,” she said. “Yes, well, it wasn’t really about the book itself. The thing of it was I recalled mentioning the book to him the first time we spoke, but I had also been sure he hadn’t read it at that point. That meant he must have read it afterwards. He remembered I said it was my favourite and cared enough to seek it out and read it. He was interested because I was interested.

“A lot of people in my village look at me strangely for wanting to read all the time, you know; it’s not exactly something women of my station are encouraged to do. But he never treated me like I was strange for it. Teased me sometimes maybe, but always fondly. He was always like that, caring about things just because I cared about them, and paying close attention to the things I said and did and was interested in.”

“And yet somehow he managed to go five years without noticing you loved him back,” the snake groused.

Aziraphale laughed a little, amused by both the point and the way the snake seemed so put out about it. He really was a dear thing. “Yes, I suppose that is the one thing he missed. Even when he proposed, I think he was expecting me to say no. He’d already had the engagement ring for… a long time, I’m not sure exactly how long.”

“Four and a half years,” the snake interrupted.

After a brief moment of confusion, she asked him, “Could you sense that from the ring somehow?”

“Something like that,” the snake said.

“Four and a half years does sound about right,” Aziraphale agreed. “He carried around that ring for that long, just waiting for the right moment, and ended up proposing on accident.”

She smiled softly to herself as she remembered it. The way the words had just slipped out of Crowley’s mouth, the brief moment of shocked panic when he’d realized what he’d said, followed by a stream of reassurances that she could say no without it changing anything, coupled with declarations of love and promises that he would take care of her and support her and that he was willing to settle down learn the work at the mill like her father expected and on and on, all the words beginning to blur together, giving Aziraphale no opportunity to answer him except by leaning in for a kiss. She’d told him she loved him too and that of course she would marry him. He’d laughed then, a sound of pure unfettered joy and kissed her again.

Then later, after her father had denied them his blessing and they had decided to elope, Crowley had suggested they get a house on the coast because he knew she’d always wanted to see the ocean. It would be a cosy little house with plenty of space for Aziraphale’s books and a garden for Crowley. He had talked on and on about the plants he’d wanted, about fruits and flowers, and bees for honey, and, oh, it was such a perfect fantasy and they had both been so happy in that moment. And then, and then–

Aziraphale let out a sob as a tear ran down her cheek.

“What’s wrong?” asked the snake, sounding both concerned and alarmed. His body tightened slightly around her shoulders, almost like a hug.

Aziraphale let out a few more sobs before finally managing to push the words out, ones that had been festering hidden deep down within her for a very long time. “He’s dead. The man I love is dead.”

“What? Who said anything about him being dead?” The snake protested.

“Don’t you understand, he has to be. He’s only supposed to be gone a couple months, and it’s been six years without a word. He wouldn’t just leave me like this, I know he wouldn’t, not unless he was dead.” That was perhaps why Aziraphale had been so easily led astray by Gabriel’s insinuations Crowley had been lying, despite knowing how ridiculous they were. Because if Crowley had left because he’d never loved her, then at least that meant he was still alive.

“Or maybe something happened to keep him from sending word,” the snake suggested. “Maybe he got captured and only just now got free. He’s probably going to show up any moment now to stop you from marrying the king.”

It was an unlikely suggestion, but Aziraphale appreciated the thought. She offered the snake a watery smile and patted him on the head. “You’re so nice to me,” she said.

The snake slithered down from around her shoulders into her lap so he could rear up and hiss directly in her face, “I am not nice.”

Aziraphale met the snake’s apparent show of aggression with mild fondness. “He used to say the exact same thing.” The snake glared at her a moment longer before relaxing back down into her lap.

Aziraphale let out a soft exhalation, somewhere between a sob and a sigh, and said in small voice, “I don’t want to marry the king.”

“Then don’t,” the snake said.

“I don’t have any choice; he won’t take no for an answer.”

“I’ll help,” said the snake.

“I don’t have anything left to give you,” Aziraphale said.

“I’ll help,” the snake insisted. “All I need is for you to say my name.”

Aziraphale didn’t understand how that could be sufficient payment when the night before she’d had to promise away her firstborn child, but she trusted her snake and what he was asking was easy enough. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “You never told me your name,” she said.

“No, I didn’t,” the snake agreed.

“Well, what is it?” she asked.

“You know it; just think.”

“Is it Snake or Serpent or… Crawl…y?” Aziraphale guessed.

“Crawly?” the snake said. “That’s a little too squirming at your feet-ish, don’t you think?”

“Well, you are a snake,” she pointed out.

“It’s not my name. I have a _real_ name, not Snake or _Crawly_.”

“Anthony?” she suggested, plucking a name at random from the air.

“A little more unusual than that,” the snake replied.

Aziraphale’s mind had gone completely blank, not a single name, unusual or otherwise, wanting to come to her. “Rumpelstiltskin,” she blurted.

“What kind of name is Rumpelstiltskin?” the snake said.

“Oh, I don’t know!” Aziraphale began wringing her hands fretfully. “I don’t know what your name is. I can’t do this,” she sobbed.

The snake stretched up and rubbed the side of its head against her cheek. “You can,” he insisted. “It’ll be alright. I promise I’ll take care of you, angel.”

Aziraphale froze, her heart skipping a beat. “Crowley?” she breathed.

The snake slithered down from her lap onto the floor, and then began to change. He stretched upwards, his body shifting until soon instead of a snake, there was a man with red hair and dark clothing standing with his back to her. He pulled out a pair of dark glasses and put them on before turning around. Even with the glasses covering half his face, there was no question to who he was. He grinned abashedly and said, “Hello, angel.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cried, leaping out of her chair and launching herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her face into his chest, and began to cry in earnest. Crowley held her close, placed a kiss on top of her head, and then began murmuring soft reassurances.

Eventually her tears ran dry. She pulled back, not far enough to leave his arms, but far enough that she could look at him. She spent a moment drinking in his well-loved features, then smacked him right in the chest. “Where have you been? Why were you a snake? Why didn’t you tell me that was you?”

“I couldn’t,” he said. Aziraphale frowned doubtfully, and he repeated insistently, “I couldn’t! It was a curse.”

Aziraphale was temporarily mollified. “What happened?”

“I went to find us a place like we agreed, and I found the perfect house, right near the beach – you can sit and read and watch the ocean out the window all day if you like. The only thing was, there was this tall dark tower a couple miles away.”

“You didn’t,” Aziraphale scolded.

“I didn’t. I swear I didn’t,” Crowley replied. “Just asked a few questions around town. I had to; we have to make a living somehow, and it might take a bit to get the whole garden and bee situation sorted out, but I can’t risk using magic if there’s a sorcerer nearby that might turn me in for not being licensed. I asked to locals and they all agreed he was probably up to no good, but kept to himself mostly, so I figured it would be safe. I bought the house–“

“You bought the house?” Aziraphale interrupted, her voice lilting up with glee.

“Yes, now hush. Let me finish the story,” Crowley said. “I bought the house and I had just headed out to come get you when I was ambushed. The sorcerer had caught wind of me and wasn’t too happy; apparently, I’d asked a few too many questions. But when he figured out I knew some magic too, he decided to take me in as his slave-apprentice. He put a spell on me and I was trapped inside that tower for years. Finally, I managed to figure out how to turn it back around on him, trapping him and his magic inside the tower for good. I got out of there, but not quick enough; he managed to cast a curse to turn me into a snake. It could only be broken on a full moon, when someone called me by my name without knowing who I was.”

Aziraphale processed that for a moment, and then some hazy memories began coming back to her. “But I saw you,” she objected. “The past three nights I woke up and saw you, _human_ you, spinning at the spinning wheel.”

“Right, that,” Crowley said. He let go of her and took a step back. Aziraphale felt instantly cold and bereft without him. “The thing is, spinning straw to gold doesn’t take quite as much power as I maybe implied it did. But it does take hands to use a spinning wheel. I had to temporarily turn myself back human which did take a lot of power.” As he spoke Crowley was rummaging through his pocket. He pulled out a carefully folded handkerchief and handed it to Aziraphale. “I can give these back to you now.”

She unwrapped it, and inside was her angel pendent necklace, which she immediately put back on. Once she had, Crowley’s hand was held out again, this time with her ring sitting in his palm. Her ring. Her _engagement_ ring. The one she’d worn on the wrong finger for years, dreaming about the day Crowley would come back and slip it back onto her ring finger where it belonged. And now here he was, just handing it to her like it was nothing.

Aziraphale wrung her hands and searched Crowley’s face, cursing his glasses for keeping her from being able to properly read his expression. “The third thing I gave you,” she said. “The promise you could have my firstborn…”

He nervously cleared his throat. “That’s going to take some negotiating around, but I can–“

“You can keep it,” Aziraphale said quickly. “…If you still want it that is.” Crowley hesitated and Aziraphale’s heart sank. “You don’t want it.”

“I do,” Crowley insisted. “But you might… I told you all those locals thought that sorcerer was up to no good, and they were right. I spent six years working for him. I’m not the same person I used to be.” He slowly pulled his glasses off, revealing his eyes were no longer the lovely shade of warm brown she remembered. Instead they were bright yellow with the slit of a serpent’s pupil down the middle.

Aziraphale slowly looked him over. He still had the same lean frame, narrow hips and a slender waist, the same broad hands with long nimble fingers, the same deep red hair, his face still had the same sharp lines, and his eyes… his eyes may have changed colour, but underneath that the expression there, the hope and fear and deep boundless love, so much love, still reflected the same heart. She reached up, cupping the side of his face in one hand and gently swiped her thumb along his cheekbone as she looked into his eyes. “You look the same to me.”

Crowley made a strangled noise, then crushed her to him, kissing her deeply, desperately, as if it was all he had ever wanted. She kissed him back just as passionately. They kissed as though they could somehow make up for six years of lost time in it, or were at least going to try their best.

When they finally had to pull away for air, Aziraphale buried herself even deeper into his arms. “Take me home, love.”

There was a sound like the beating of a massive pair of wings, and they were gone. The following morning the only things remaining to show either of them had ever been there at all were a single black feather lying on the floor and three rooms full of straw.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated. Or come hang with me on [tumblr.](https://nicnacsnonsense.tumblr.com/)


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